Untangling
by Mary West
Summary: The Marriage Law was passed, and Severus and Hermione were married off - to other people. Two other nice, caring, supportive people. So how to undo this mess? Because Severus and Hermione are friends, and just friends, right? Even if he does keep giving her potions for her hair.
1. Chapter 1

"So how is married life treating you?"

"You forget, I've been here before." Hermione picked up her cocktail and sipped it gently. She adored the strawberries, although she always felt that Hannah was overly generous with the alcohol. But it was a regular part of her Friday nights with Severus. The rancour and enmity of the years had mellowed to civility, then a particularly difficult case had drawn them together and they had found common ground that led to friendship. That, and Friday nights became their "decompressing" evening after a series of work disasters that had almost led Hermione to pull her hair out, and the only person she felt she could grumble to in safety was her sometime colleague Severus Snape. He at least would never let slip to the Head of the Department exactly how closely she had compared said Head to the end results of a white cat's indigestion at two in the morning on a freshly-put-on duvet cover. Which she had had to deal with that very day. Severus too had let slip that he appreciated spending time with someone whose sense of humour stretched further than Benny Hill reruns, thus the regular Friday night sessions.

Even their own recent marriages had not changed this. Both had made it a point of the agreements that they would be allowed to continue their own social arrangements, as long as it didn't affect their recent attachments.

"How does it compare, then?"

"Heathcote's actually rather sweet. He makes me breakfast on the weekends when he's home, and he does all his rehearsing in the special barn down the end of the property. He knew to let me sleep in when Daylight Savings ended – not that we're in the same bedrooms, but he was careful with the noise anyway. And he's quite artistic – has a sideline in really intricate pen-and-ink drawings for a series of poetry books that'll be coming out next year. He's an excellent cook, and he gets on well with Pyewacket. I'm pleasantly surprised." She paused then, carefully, asked. "And yours?"

"I had forgotten I knew Deidre before. She was one of my first students to graduate, and has been teaching at Beauxbatons for the last forty years. She's very good. Far better at educational theory than I ever was. We have our own interests, of course, but she consults me for ideas on what prior training and subjects would be best for Potions classes, and she's had some excellent ideas for me on some of the newer equipment." Severus stretched. "And we share a liking for very hot Balti. Our Thursday nights in are one of the highlights of the week, and I never thought to hear myself say that. This marriage arrangement actually has some benefits, as far as I can tell after a month. But who's behind it?"

"I have a bad idea." Hermione scowled – or maybe the alcohol had finally hit. "Possibly your ever-grumpy vengeful godson."

"Draco has improved."

"Not since he was widowed."

"What has he done this time?"

"Threatened to send me to monitor the St Callynch's tip for the night-time shift the whole of next month."

"St Callynch?"

"Remember the little matter of the dumped dragon bile? And the plants that started trying to creep out and take over the neighbouring canola farm?"

"Oh. Yes. Did they ever catch the wizard responsible?"

Hermione scowled. "Draco – I'm sorry, _Department Head_ Malfoy – won't let me use any sort of detection, identification or even purification magic on the area. It's like he's on an austerity drive, and has been since July. Four months of his pigheaded rancour. I have my suspicions. I hear Scorpius has gone into the field of Potion Ingredient Supply, and somehow I don't think it's a co-incidence. No, instead we use up our entire overtime budget in damage control."

"And by _damage control_, you mean _mutant plant culling_." Severus finished his own drink, a strangely-lit glass of some green concoction, and stood. "Perhaps I should investigate whether the plants themselves have any uses in the Potions line as well. But I have to leave now. There's a small party at Slughorn's to celebrate his hundred-and-thirty-seventh birthday, and while I find him tiresome, he was one of the less annoying teachers. I don't suppose you'd like to …"

Hermione finished her own drink. "Already booked, I'm afraid. It's Rose's twenty-third birthday, and we're having a girls-only film night."

"Not her father?"

"Quidditch finals in Paris."

"Oh."

"We do still get on, but not closely".

He helped her on with her coat and walked with her to the door, then stopped and turned to her.

"We should have the pair of you over for dinner one night. I'd like you to meet her."

Hermione nodded, trying still to make sense of the way things had worked out. "I'd like that. I'll check with Heathcote to see when he's free. So – see you on Monday?"

"If I survive the party." Severus waved goodbye, then halted and pulled a package from his voluminous pocket. "Here's that hair-balm. See how that works, would you?"

"Thanks." Hermione stashed it in her bag, then returned the wave. He headed for the Leaky Cauldron and its floo, while she ducked around the corner and _apparated_ to the gathering.

-0-

The next Monday, Severus decided to hand-deliver a file instead of sending it by the usual scurrying elves. It only took a couple of minutes before he was walking in the entrance of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and around the corner to Hermione's office. She sat at her desk, her hair tied up and held back from her face by a pair of hair sticks as she puzzled over the wording in what looked like a hefty scroll, and her smile of relief when she saw him was unmistakeable.

"Severus! Just what I need to see on a Monday. Too early for coffee?"

"It's never too early for coffee." He put the file on her desk, and a minute later they were walking into the nearby café which had prospered by aiming its custom at both Wizarding and Muggle workers in the area. She waited until he had set the pair of coffee mugs on the table, as well as a small plate of macarons, but she could hold back no longer.

"I was right."

"About?"

"Did you not wonder, Severus, why that Marriage Law was passed so very quickly? Why suddenly we each had to choose from such a small pool of available spouses and no excuses for not wanting to marry in the first place? And no allowance either for those whose preferences did not run to a Magick of a different gender?" She looked around, and slipped a sheet of paper over to him. "Read that, and see what you think."

She watched as his eyes scanned down the paper, then stopped near the bottom. "You're joking?"

"I wish I was. This American-based Wizard has somehow manipulated those in charge of Magical Law Enforcement. Their entire agenda seems to be to turn the British Ministry into a mirror of that ghastly Magical Congress they had over there a few years back."

"Where they tried to change all the rules to make their President a lifelong ruler by banning elections, disbanding all the independent courts and generally creating a dictatorship? But how does the Marriage Law come into play?"

"Well, I have to admit my hair's never been smoother, although I still need to use one of those wide-toothed combs on it. I can't get a brush through it at all." Hermione's voice suddenly leapt to a much higher pitch, and she dropped her handbag on top of the paper Severus was reading as she reached up and took out one of the hair sticks. He looked up in complete disbelief, then realised the reason for the change in subject. Walking past them was Rita Skeeter, still as much of a hack journalist as ever, and still always in search of any scandalous news she could get her hands on.

"Hermione! How is the Wonder Woman of the Golden Trio?"

"That's _Department Manager_ Granger to you, Miss Skeeter. What do you want?" It was amazing how suddenly Hermione's normally friendly voice could turn to ice. Rita failed to take the warning, though. She leaned over Severus's shoulder and actually took a lock of Hermione's hair between her fingers and rubbed it.

"Feels greasy to me. Whatever you're using, stop." The reporter straightened up and wiped her fingers on Severus's shoulder, oblivious to his death glare. "Well, I'd better be going. There's a new set of Dress Robes in the Alley that I need to try on. Later, perhaps."

She sidled between two more tables, obviously looking out for more scandal, but finally left the café and headed off in the direction of Diagon Alley.

"Sorry about that." Hermione lifted her bag off the paper. "Couldn't think what else to do."

"I was wondering what you were up to, but that was clever. And your hair does look smoother. May I?" Severus reached out and felt the lock that Rita had been fondling a minute earlier. "But I'm afraid that for once in my life I have to agree with that Skeeter woman. For all that it looks good, I don't think this is improving its general condition. It is most definitely greasy. I take it my lotion hasn't helped?"

"Only that I was able to get a comb through it without too much trouble. But it goes limp so quickly afterwards."

"I have some ideas. Stop using that one, and I'll bring something on Friday. Which also reminds me – how is Saturday night for dinner?"

"Heathcote's between tours, so that will work well. Shall I bring dessert?"

"Excellent." Severus checked quickly around himself, then went back to the paper Hermione had given him. "Now – what's the connection with the Marriage Law?"

"Someone is using the Compulsory Marriage Law to weed out anyone who might be against the Government." Hermione pointed halfway down the page. "Anyone protesting, or requesting their marriage be terminated, or even refusing outright, is being labelled as a dissenter and an enemy of the Ministry. It's like when Voldemort's lot got in thirty years ago. Discredit the critics, imprison those taking a stand against it, then outlaw things on the basis that radicals are trying to overthrow the rule of law. Put your own types in the position of power, and you've got control of the lot. So we need to move now. But I'm not sure how."

"Neither am I, Hermione. But let me have a talk to a few people I know in the States, and we can discuss it on Saturday. And now, I think I should head back to my office. I can say there was a good reason for us to discuss the application of the new curriculum in terms of the established outcomes of the pedagogical inquiry …"

"And if you did, people would wonder if you've been working too hard!"

"Which reminds me - there's a lady who wears brooches according to the political issue of the day. I've never seen you with a brooch, but you do wear scarves. Would this be of use?" He slid over a small package, and Hermione opened it to find a scarf ring with an open book on it.

She burst into delighted laughter. "It's perfect! Thank you." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "And I have to run. I'll see you on Friday."

-0-

Alas, the usual Friday meetup had to be cancelled, as Hermione was called urgently to an outbreak of triffid-like growths from the St Callynch tip site. She ended up channelling all her frustrations on the foetid puddle of goo in the middle of the dump, using _fiendfire_ to eradicate the problem once and for all. It worked, but the resulting paperwork kept her at her desk until far too late and she ended up messaging Severus by Interdepartmental Paper Plane suggesting a postponement as they were seeing each other the next night. Instead, she used the little she then had left of the evening to experiment with a combination of Sleekeazy's and Severus's potions – only to wash the resultant goop out the next morning as it resulted in an almost industrial level of oil dripping out of her locks. She and Heathcote arrived at the entrance to Severus and Deidre's cottage just as night fell, and were welcomed into the warmth by the couple.

Dinner was excellent. Potion Experts were apparently able to turn their talents to magic in the kitchen as well, and it warmed Hermione's heart to see Deidre and Severus work together in obvious harmony. She and Heathcote helped set the table, and the wine they brought complemented the ragout perfectly. But it was during dessert (and the delightful dessert wine) that Severus brought up the issue.

"Heathcote? I take it Hermione has filled you in on the efforts of certain people to try and gain power and influence in the Ministry?"

"She has, thank you Severus." Heathcote reached into his pocket and brought out a notepad covered in neat handwriting. "I've been doing some digging myself – I have contacts in the publishing industry – and I'm convinced that a well-placed campaign revealing the power behind the Ministry's move will have the Wizarding world up and demanding change before it becomes entrenched. The last War was thirty years ago, and the children then are the people in power now, so if we can tap into that zeitgeist we're well on the way."

"And of course our own children were brought up on the stories of the War. They take it seriously." Hermione had her own piece of paper out now, with a flowchart. "Not to mention seeing the disasters in America ten years ago and what happened to so many of their friends."

Deidre was nodding enthusiastically. "The staff at Hogwarts won't stand by and let this happen. And they'll help the current students get involved too."

"This is excellent," Severus said. "But I have a feeling we may be missing something. There must be a point at which all of this started, someone or something that set it in motion. An influence from the US. It didn't come out of nowhere."

"I'll see if I can work that out." Hermione was scribbling on her paper, her Arithmancy skills still as sharp as ever. "Although every indication is that even if the source was from the US, the linchpin is in the Ministry."

"Then we're the best to find that link." Severus started gathering the plates from the table as Deidre and Heathcote were comparing notes as to the best approach to engage the student population at Hogwarts and some of the other Wizarding schools that had opened in Britain. Hermione put her pencil down and picked up the glasses, following Severus into the kitchen.

"So?"

"He cares for you." Severus stacked the dishwasher carefully. "He likes you, and more importantly, he respects you. I have to admit you've been a lot less stressed since he came into your life."

"So true." She rinsed the glasses carefully and put them to the side – they were far too delicate to be put in the dishwasher. "Deidre thinks you're lovely, by the way. She told me she'd never thought of being married, but you've erased any concerns she had. And that's saying a lot. Now, shall I put on coffee?"

The coffee pot was on and some small but delicious shortbread biscuits on the table for the group in just a few moments. Heathcote had the basics of a disinformation-combatting campaigned mapped out in a few minutes, and he and Deidre were designing leaflets, radio advertisements and newspaper inserts at one side, while Hermione and Severus tried to narrow down where the main influencer was hiding in the Ministry.

"It has to be someone at a high level, but not necessarily at the very top. That would be too obvious." Hermione was slowly crossing names off an entire staff list. As she spoke, she removed a whole section, then looked up to see Severus's eyebrow rise precipitously.

"What?"

"Not the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?"

"Weasleys do not attempt the subtle. It's just not in them, and at least four of them work in that area."

"Oh. Fair enough." Severus looked further down the list. "Surely it must be someone who prefers _traditional values_. If it wasn't for the fact that Dolores Umbridge died in Azkhaban twenty years ago, I'd be suspecting her."

"Almost too slow-going for her. The first signs were the slight changes to the wording of the laws for how to register your disagreement with any Ministry rules. It went from _submit your disagreement in writing within 30 days_ to _in person at a particular place and time _– but that place and time was the always-locked back office, between 4:45 and 4:48 on the fifth Monday of the month. Then the frequent memos regarding the concern of the Ministry at the continuation of Purebred lines, even though most of them were no longer around. I mean, apart from Draco's boy Scorpius, and it's not like he's ended up with a Pureblood himself."

Severus looked up at her in surprise, and she grinned. "Isn't it true that most so-called Purebloods have some Muggle in their ancestry somewhere? So whoever was sending those memos was deliberately distorting the truth to put the fear into people that someone might try and raise up another bunch of Death Eaters. And as that's not a thing, which means that the marriages were for naught, then there must be something else that's being covered up instead. Some sort of group, or organisation, that wants the power over the Wizarding world. But that's all I can think of so far. "

"It's a lot to work on. We have to work out who is benefiting from having most of the Pure-bloods married off to others, and maybe from that we can work out what their real goal is." He yawned. "I'm sorry – I was up early this morning collecting the dew off the spiderwebs with Deidre. It's a good thing she came and woke me in time – the sun had almost dried it off before we got there. Oh – and I meant to ask – what _did_ you do to your hair?"

Hermione looked to her shoulder where one of her errant locks was lying. Slumping, more like. As she watched, a drop of oil slid off the end and landed on her quickly-placed napkin. "Bother. Let me put it this way, Severus – never mix _Sleekezy_ with any of your potions. I feel like I could replace the entire output of the North Sea Shelf just with what's coming off my scalp. I think I'm going to have to wash it for the third time today."

"Try some lemon juice on it." Severus looked at one of his own locks, still as lank and lifeless as ever. "Although probably we're the worst two to be researching hair products. If neither of us have found a solution by now … How are you two going?"

"We're set." Heathcote slid over a couple of draft pamphlets, and the layout of a banner to go on the websites most frequented by those in the Wizarding community. "Deidre has a friend working on the _Quibbler_ website, and I'm sure Roger Davies owes me a favour or two. He's editor in chief at the _Prophet_ now."

"Perfect." Hermione stood up and stretched. "We should call it a night, and meet up again next week. I'm free Thursday and Friday nights."

"Thursday suits me." Deidre pulled out a compact diary with a swirly pink cover. "And do we want anyone else to join us? I mean, this could get quite complicated."

"We should be careful. If we ask the wrong people to join us, things could get awkward." Heathcote helped Hermione with her coat, while Deidre pushed the chairs in around the table. "How about we bring the names to the next meeting, and we all decide if they should join?"

"Your husband has some damned good ideas," Severus said. "Here?"

"Our place." Heathcote opened the door. "At seven. We've got the whole rehearsal space available."

-0-

Next Thursday, Severus and Deidre _apparated_ to the front of the eighteenth-century house that was home to Heathcote and Hermione. It had been in the Barbary family since the days when the main profession of the clan was piracy. In fact, one thing Hermione appreciated about her marriage was that she had the sort of house she'd always dreamed of as a child – large and old and sprawling, complete with a secret cupboard in the top room. She'd never used it before now, but for some reason she felt it necessary to put most of the working papers for their new group in the space, carefully sliding the wooden panel back so that it was undetectable from the other side.

Welcoming the two, she led them upstairs to the large room that had once been part of the Long Gallery.

"They're only temporary partitions, but they make it easier to heat the space. The whole Gallery is a pain in winter." The original leaded windows had long been replaced with sash ones, now curtained and holding back the Autumn cold. Heathcote was there with his laptop, and showed his obvious delight at the arrival of the others. Hermione led the others in, her hair covered by a paisley scarf, the better to hide the latest problem with the hair. It had formed itself into ringlets which twined around themselves, and there was no dealing with them without sitting down for an hour with a comb. "You two sit down - I'll go get the dinner. It's just a pie."

"Welcome! Severus, Deidre – lovely to see you." He swung his laptop around, and the screen showed a glorious moving graphic of a cage slowly descending on a group of witches. "This is the article that Luna has agreed to put in the Quibbler. We've submitted it to the Prophet as well, but haven't heard back from them yet."

"You don't suppose they'll reject it?" Deidre dropped a pile of papers on the table, and pulled one out. "I'm glad Luna's fine with it. I was going to ask Orla, but I'll save that favour for something else. Now – what's our next plan of action?"

Hermione found them hard at it when she came back with dinner. For the time being, they decided to limit the group to just the four. Deidre had a plan for posters and leaflets to be placed around the Wizarding gathering places such as the Leaky Cauldron and the Florean Fortescues, and Heathcote was considering a rally.

"But we need more proof of what the real reason is, and I'm not sure we have it yet."

"You're right, of course." Hermione pulled out her Arithmancy calculations. "I am having trouble getting a clear line of where the original concept came from. Here – what can you make of this?"

She laid a large piece of parchment on the table. On it lay all the different departments of the Ministry of Magic, including those connections that went out to the Muggle world. With lines around the suspected sections, others crossed out, and scribbled red arrows across many of the organisational layers, it resembled an attempt to make the 17th Century Spanish Monarchy family tree intelligible. The most prominent lines though seemed to link the Media Relations Office with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's Muggle Liaison Bureau. But that couldn't be right unless …

"What if …" Deidre started then hesitated.

"No, go on. Any idea at this time is worthwhile." Heathcote leaned over and put his hand over hers.

"What if there's two people involved? If the impetus for all these new rules came from not one but two people in separate sections, working together?" Her voice was quieter and quieter as she said this, but Hermione almost shouted in her eagerness to agree.

"Of course! Look!" Hermione drew another two lines, linking the two red areas and passing through her own office. "That's the only possible answer. And it must be … oh. Someone fairly high up. I shall have to tread carefully, but I think I can work this part out back at the office. "

Severus was leafing through his own research in a well-thumbed neat folder in front of him. "We should keep this just to ourselves. I'm worried about getting anyone else involved. But we need to be able to contact each other quickly. Hermione, how was it that you were able to keep Dumbledore's Army together for so long?"

"I thought about that over the weekend. " She pulled out a small bag of coins. "I've made a new batch of these – if we want to meet urgently, we can activate our own coin and all the others will have the place and time of the meeting on them. I've made enough for a large group, but the four of us can use them to start with."

Severus stashed his in his pocket, made a note and packed up his papers. "Then we can test them tomorrow night. Hermione, I'm of two minds about something. Is it better, do you think, to have our regular Friday drinks to look as if everything's normal, or should we not be seen together much at the moment?"

"Drinks, I think. Look normal. Then we head here and you two join us?" Heathcote and Deidre nodded, and Deidre spoke up.

"Definitely normal. And besides, Severus always looks so less stressed after your Friday nights. You're good for him, Hermione. For both of them."

-0-

The next night, Hermione and Severus perched themselves at one of the tables in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron's new lounge. They would have sat in their usual seats in the front bar, but there had been a Quidditch match and the entire room was filled with orange-clad players and supporters celebrating a rare win by the Chudleigh Cannons. While Hermione still got on well with Ron, she really didn't feel like being forced to interact with him. The lounge was lit more dimly, supposedly to increase the intimacy of the ambience. Severus swore it was to hide how small the drinks were, but Hermione poked him at that and insisted on a second drink to combat the supposed inferiority of the drink size.

They were partway through laying down plans for the Sunday meetup when Hermione nudged Severus and pointed to a couple making their way to a secluded corner. One was unmistakeable – Draco Malfoy might be sporting a largish bald spot, but his hair was as brightly blond as ever. The woman with him, though, seemed quite overawed by the surroundings. She positively goggled at the floating lights, and when she thought Draco wasn't looking, she ran her hands around them to find the support structure. Her date – for it could only be that – ushered her into a corner booth, and was obviously looking around for someone to take his drink order. As his gaze slid over Hermione, she decided to take the bull by the horns. Later, she would blame it on the second drink, but right now it seemed like a good idea. She stood carefully, and made her cautious way over to the couple, followed swiftly by Severus, who was debating whether to stop her or abet her.

"Draco! How lovely to see you here!" Hermione stood in front of the couple, and tried not to let too large a grin cover her face.

"Weasley."

"Granger. Remember? I work for you? Divorced so many years ago I cannot count? And hello – you might be … ?" She held out her hand to the stranger, who took it willingly and shook well.

"Lisa Fugelli. Hello there – I take it Granger is your surname?"

"It is." Hermione took advantage of the friendliness of the reply to sit down beside the woman. "We won't stay long, Draco. Stop pouting. I'm Hermione, and this is Severus."

"Severus Granger?"

"Oh goodness no!" Hermione cracked up at that, and as she started to recover, the odd expression on Severus's face set her off again. A minute later, she managed to catch her breath and reply properly. "Severus Snape – he's a colleague. And Draco's godfather. And Draco? You have to order your drinks at the bar. So where do you know him from, Lisa?"

"We met at the theatre. And a gin and tonic, please." Lisa watched as Draco headed off, then turned back to Hermione. "I haven't met any of his other friends before."

"Well, I wouldn't say we're close. But are you from around here? "

"No, Fulham. I had no idea this place existed. And however do they do the lights? My dad taught me how to connect up a light setting, but these ones have me completely puzzled." Lisa touched the one above their heads, making it sway slightly. The golden light circled around the tabletop, illuminating the three of them and gleaming slightly off the elegant ring she wore. Hermione knew that ring. It had been on Narcissa's hands when Malfoy Manor was being used as a prison during the Wizarding War.

"Company secret, I think. They don't tell me, and I've been coming here for ages." Severus spoke up for the first time. "But when you're not hanging around with my godson, what do you do? Apart from cheering in the stands, that is."

"However could you tell?" Lisa laughed. She had a delightful laugh, quite free and unaffected, and Hermione was fairly sure she was a complete Muggle. "Yes, I support the team. It's sort of like a religion, isn't it? You can't really live in the area without being a part of that. Are you from that area? But no – your voice makes me think you're from the North."

"Little weaving town in the Pennines." Severus picked up his own drink. "I work down here though – chemical engineering."

"That's amazing. I'm just the accounts manager in a car dealership. But I have a long-suppressed longing to tread the stage, so I go to the theatre whenever I can. And Draco and I ended up sitting next to each other when the lights went out at the _Corellian_ last July. I was quite frightened, and he was so lovely to me. We've been going out ever since. Thank you, love." She took the drink Draco was offering, and scootched closer to Hermione to give Draco room to sit down. "In fact, we're going to a performance of _Long Winter's Winding_ tonight. We've got about half an hour before we need to head off, so don't feel you have to leave."

"No, I'm afraid Hermione and I are off to watch her husband's band rehearse. Apparently they have a new stage act and want to run it past us." Severus drained his drink and stood, followed quickly by Hermione.

"Your husband's a musician?"

"Yes, in a band. They're not bad."

"Who are they? What sort of music do they play?"

"The Weird Sisters. Sort of Emo, but with a classical bent. Shall I let Draco know when they're playing?"

"That would be lovely. I've not heard of them, but I'll look them up so I know what to expect. It's been lovely to meet you both." Lisa shook both Hermione and Severus's hands, and waved as they headed out of the room.

They arrived at Hermione and Heathcote's home with a quick but accurate Side-Along Apparition by Severus, who was concerned that Hermione might misdirect them instead into the middle of the Channel Tunnel. But when they walked through the front door, he was surprised by the sobriety she showed in comparison to the slightly-unsteady tipsy persona of a few minutes before.

"That was interesting." She had barely put down her bag when she had a pen and piece of paper in her hand. "I knew I was missing something obvious, and that was it."

"What was it?"

"Of all the unmarried witches and wizards in Britain, which rather prominent Pureblood seems to have avoided the compulsory marriages that we all had to submit to six weeks ago?"

"And he's dating a Muggle." Severus shook his head. "Lucius would be spinning in his grave if he knew."

They hustled into the rehearsal room, where Heathcote and Deidre were already working hard on a strategy document and a clear statement of their aims, ready to publicise it the next week. Hermione leapt straight for the Arithmancy documents and added Draco to the equation. It took less than a minute for her to sit back and stretch with a very happy smile.

"Got it."

"It was Draco?"

"I think he's the instigator. He must be the one who introduced the Bill to the Minister, and explained it so persuasively that the Minister thought it would be a good idea for all Purebloods to marry outside the Wizarding families." She pointed to where a bright purple line now snaked across the pages, circling the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and then trailing off towards the Media Relations Office. "And I can guess why."

Severus scowled. "Lisa."

"Lisa," Hermione echoed.

"Who's Lisa?" Deidre furrowed her brow.

Hermione's voice had the requisite sing-song as she replied. "Draco's got a girlfriend." She laughed too much, then coughed, and became serious again. "She's a lovely lady, and a total Muggle. Not even a Muggle-born wizard – a complete Doesn't-Know-About-Magic Muggle. And I think he's serious about her."

"And that would explain a lot. There is not a chance in Hades' Depths that Narcissa would let her darling son marry a Muggle." Heathcote shook his head. "Especially now that Scorpius is unlikely to have children – or at least not unless he and Albus adopt. She quizzed me about my background all those years ago, and we were only dating. Narcissa is out for more pure-blood grandchildren, and Draco wants to marry a Muggle, so he falls for the idea that if the Ministry insisted on marriage outside the Pureblood lines, he can use that as his excuse."

"I think you have it!" Hermione added another couple of lines to the equation, then jumped. "There's something else I have to check, but I may know who else is responsible. The only thing I have no idea about is where the American influence is coming from."

"Then we keep looking." Deidre was flipping through a list of Ministry officials. "You know, I might have an idea. Severus, are you free on Monday?"

"Sorry – the Ministry's sending me to Norwich to check those salt fountains. Heathcote?"

"I'm free. What are we doing?"

"I think the American influence might be outside the Ministry. Perhaps someone's newest best friend, or some sort of interest group. Anyway, I want to go through the Prophet archives, see if there's anything in the last six months that we missed, but it's a lot and I could do with a hand."

"Glad to." Heathcote nodded eagerly, and it warmed Hermione's heart that her husband was getting on so well with her friends. The group wrapped things up shortly afterwards.

-0-


	2. Chapter 2

Their week was thus drastically busy. As well as the usual work, Severus made sure he was interviewed by Seamus Finnegan on his evening show _Wrap Up_, where he laid out the strands of their research with sundry links to already-known Wizarding Laws and the introduction of the ramifications of the plot. Hermione and Heathcote arranged for an advertising slip to be included in the next edition of the Prophet which, when held, changed into a clear repudiation of any Law requiring policing of the marriages of adults of legal age and any gender, bloodline or religious persuasion. Meanwhile, Deidre continued her searches of the old Prophet issues.

Finally the mainstream Wizarding world started to take notice. The expected denunciation was as planned and as furious as Hermione expected – she was summoned, along with the others, to appear on a live TV broadcast on Friday night where the Minister was going to openly refute any and all of the allegations. The summons appeared on the Wednesday morning while she was at work, and she was poking the piece of parchment with her wand and wondering how she had managed to get herself into this situation, when there was a knock at her door and her Head of Department came in.

"Draco."

"Granger."

He sat himself across the desk from her, and looked as if he had swallowed a toad. She let him stew for a minute as she shuffled papers, but finally she looked up and nodded. "What do you want? I'm already likely to be suspended, if not sent off to Azkhaban. You needn't worry about me taking up your precious office space for much longer."

He swallowed, opened his mouth two or three times, then finally spoke. "I need your help."

"Mine?"

"Don't look so surprised, Granger. You obviously know why I need you."

"Oh but Draco! This is so sudden, and I'm already married!" She tilted her head coquettishly, and flashed her wedding ring.

"Put a sock in it, Granger. This is serious." He was scowling, but his voice was quite desperate. "I need the Marriage Law to stay in place. If you get rid of it, I'll be …"

"It's Lisa, isn't it?" Hermione felt like a fisherman who has finally hooked the prize-winning salmon. "You want to marry her, and you want the Marriage Law to be your excuse so that your mother can't block it."

To his credit, Draco cut his blustering and just nodded. "She's something special. She's sweet, and supportive, and she brings out a side of me that I didn't realise I had. When I'm with her, I'm feeling quite … well, I wouldn't go so far as to say _nice and kind_, but it's …"

"I think I understand."

"You do?"

Hermione nodded and put her hands flat on the table. "After the War, it was so difficult for me to just be Hermione Granger. I was always _Hermione of the Golden Trio_, a War Hero, a celebrity. For a while there I couldn't even walk down Diagon Alley without being surrounded by people wanting to touch me – or yell in my face. And we were on the _winning_ side. It must have been very difficult for you."

"Father's actions didn't help. We're not even properly on the losing side. We ran away. I have that to live up to all the time." Draco couldn't meet her eyes, but the slump in his shoulders told her far too much. "Lisa doesn't know who I am. She doesn't know what my family did, or anything about Blood Purity or … She loves me. Draco. The guy with the strange first name and the big house in the country."

"Does your mother know yet?"

"Not yet. I'm dreading telling her. But if I can tell her we have to marry … "

Hermione thought for a minute, while Draco looked more and more uncomfortable. Then she grinned. "What if you could marry Lisa on your own terms, with your mother's approval – or at least agreement? Because the Law's so unfair on the rest of us. And if it continues, then it's the gateway to bringing other laws in, ones that will really restrict our freedoms and choices. But as it stands at the moment, you're using the Marriage Law to choose who you can marry while so many people are blocked from their own choice."

"I don't know …"

"Think of it this way, Draco. You'll have to tell Lisa who you are eventually. And what we are. How is she going to feel if the love of her life brought about _her_ happiness at the expense of so many others? Is she still going to love you then?"

"That's harsh."

"But accurate."

Draco hesitated a moment, then … "Yes. I am sorry to admit it, but I think you may, for once, be right."

"Good. Right. Well, I have an idea. But it's going to mean some fast work – and your assistance and co-operation. Shall we meet on Friday morning?" She stood and walked to the door, opening it in a clear message of dismissal. Once Draco had left, she grabbed her mobile phone and sent a message for Heathcote to call her as soon as he could.

-0-

Friday outside the studio was cold and miserable. The drizzle did nothing to raise the spirits of the four who met beside the walkway up to the studio. Inside, they were hustled into small dressing rooms where worried-looking staff helped them into their respective sets of robes and did their makeup. Hermione wanted them to present as serious and sombre, and she had chosen beautifully-fitted subtly-patterned robes with suits underneath, even over the protests of Heathcote. But when the makeup was finished, she almost screamed.

"I want to look respectable. You've made me look like a harpy!"

From the cubicle beside her, Deidre was likewise loud. "I am a mature-aged witch. You do not make me look like a cross between Ru Paul and Xenophilius Lovegood. They are both lovely people but I am not them!"

Hermione grabbed her wand and ran it over the makeup, subduing the garish eyeshadow and neon blusher into something more suitable for her personality, then ran in and did the same to Deidre. The makeup artist was standing to the side, looking very uncomfortable.

"Why in the name of Merlin's saggy and pendulous did you do that?"

"Isn't that who you are? The _Pansexual Polyamorous Party Wizards_ who want open marriages and free love? That's what the instructions came through as." The artist handed a small card over, and Hermione and Deidre read it in growing horror.

"They're trying to discredit us," Deidre gasped. "If they can label us as wanton whores, they'll make us look as if we're doing this for our own sordid motives. We'd better check what they've done to Heathcote and Severus."

Sure enough, Severus looked as if he was a quintessential dirty old man on the lookout for some unprotected child, whereas Heathcote looked not too dissimilar to how he appeared on stage. They both quickly agreed to the fix by Hermione, and it was the sombre, professional and mature team that presented themselves to the studio floor for the interviews. Although it had to be said that while Severus and Hermione looked calm and collected, Deidre and Heathcote had the sort of eager smile that parents show at Christmas while waiting for the children to unwrap their presents.

The Minister was already seated in a comfortable chair on one side of the studio floor next to an empty one, and the four were ushered onto a long settee opposite him. Between the two obvious sides was another chair, this one a high bar stool style in bright red.

"Who's presenting?" Heathcote's whisper was barely audible.

"No idea." Hermione looked around for a sign of the presenter but no-one seemed to be taking the chair. The magical cameras were pointing at all the chairs (viewers with the right television sets could watch any view they wanted, including all at once), and the floor manager came over quickly to set up the microphone spell that would ensure their words reached the audience. But as she came over to Severus, he stood and loomed over her while murmuring in her ear. To Hermione's surprise, the young woman smiled and nodded emphatically. Then she stepped back and faced the group.

"Your voices will transmit all the time, so if you need to sneeze or cough, touch your right ear and the microphone will be temporarily muted. You can overwrite any muting by touching your left ear twice." She paused for a moment then repeated, "_Any_ muting."

Hermione looked to Severus, who nodded slowly at her. She made a mental note to ask him afterwards what he had said to the woman, but suddenly there was a countdown, music, the lights came up, the cameras swung back to the chairs.

Most of the cameras.

One was pointed to the left of the stage, ready for the presenter who came on but a moment later. Striding onto the set, her notebook in her hand, was Rita Skeeter. The reporter's smug smile was broader than Hermione had ever seen it, and her walk was one of triumph. She sat in the presenter's chair and smiled into the camera.

"Good evening, and welcome to another episode of _Truth and Manipulation_. I am your host, Rita Skeeter, and we are here tonight to investigate a serious effort by a group of radical Mages to destabilise the Government by rejecting the laws which have been introduced over the last year. On your left we have that group, led by the well-known troublemakers Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. On your right, Minister of Magic David Gudgeon. We are shortly to be joined by a senior official in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who will be taking us through all the logistics and explanations of why the Marriage Law was introduced. But let us start with the Minister. If you'd please?"

The cameras swung to Gudgeon, who touched his left ear and then turned to look directly down the lenses.

"Good evening. I'd like to start by reiterating what the fundamental elements of the Marriage Law are. Basically, any witch or wizard of age who is of Pureblood status was required to marry someone with a reasonable proportion of Muggle blood, or forfeit their right to be a part of Wizarding society. It was debated properly in the Wizengamot, and passed by a majority of those present, who constituted a quorum and thus it was legally binding. Those who had not found a partner, or who had already contracted to marry and could prove this, were exempt from the Law. Thus we find it extremely disturbing that a small number of those subsequently married under the Law, who had been matched according to the best possible algorithms and Arithmancy available to the Ministry, have chosen to protest this legislation and deny the rights of the Wizengamot to apply these laws." He paused, the microphone picking up his breathing and amplifying it. "If they wished to protest their own marriages, these four could well have done so through the proper channels. Instead, they are seeking to destabilise the Government and instigate chaos. Such behaviour cannot be condoned, cannot be ignored and cannot be dismissed. It must cease forthwith." He sat back in his chair and mopped his brow with a large silk handkerchief.

"A fair and concise summary, Minister. Now, I understand that Heathcote Barbary is the spokeswizard of your group. Would you care to explain what exactly your band of dissenters and seditionists is about?" Rita smoothed her hair, and nodded to the camera to point at the group.

Heathcote and Hermione looked at each other, and Heathcote hit his mute button. "I can't talk for all of us!" Hermione was about to reply when Deidre reached over and gave his hand a squeeze.

"Yes you can. You'll be brilliant. Now do it."

He stood, a little unsteadily, and looked at the Minister. Reactivating his microphone, he began.

"Minister, Miss Skeeter, I and my fellow protesters are bringing this matter to the Ministry, and seeking to have the Marriage Law repealed, and all who wish to have their marriages annulled. While the Law may have been ratified by the Wizengamot, I have proof that the attendance that night – for it was held in the dead of night – was stacked by the strange co-incidence of a series of summonses for a majority of the members to 'urgent' meetings across the country, and the suggestion that their proxy be assigned to one of the other members. As another co-incidence, that member was Department Head Malfoy, who cast all the votes for which he held proxies, and his own, for the introduction of the Marriage Law. The record does not clearly show who voted for what, and thus those members who left strict instructions that their vote be recorded in the negative assumed that theirs was one of the only 10 "no" votes. I have contacted many of the members, and have a signed and verified list here of at least 20 who would have voted against the proposal, to be added to the 10 actually present who voted against it. Thus the Law is invalid." He stopped, and took a sip of the water from his chair.

"Secondly, I can show that an insufficient amount of time was allowed for those affected by the Law to either make their own arrangements, or to protest the application of the Law. Wizarding rules used to require at least thirty days between the announcement of the intention to marry and the actual marriage. Anything shorter was an exception and only allowed with an application to the appropriate Department, thus ensuring that no hasty and precipitous marriages occurred. I note those applying the new Law took advantage of the wording of the Wizarding Marriage Equality Bill of ten years ago, where there was no mention of the obligatory waiting time. However, I would submit to the Minister and those present that the Equality Bill was an addition to, not a replacement of, the original _Of the Marriage of Witches and Wizards Law_, and only served to amend the limits of those allowed to marry to _any two Wizarding adults who are not currently married_. But it is not to be used to hasten the marriages of those who are forced into them."

Heathcote turned back to the others, to be encouraged by Hermione's smile, Deidre's thumbs up and Severus's quiet but positive nod. He turned back now to face the camera, not the Minister, but was vaguely aware that Draco had come in and taken the seat beside Gudgeon.

"Finally, I submit that the Law has done the utmost to discredit and belittle those adults who have been matched to others without consultation or agreement. I have been very lucky to be married to Hermione Granger, a woman of great intellect and reason and one whose care and friendship I value highly. But it was not her choice, and neither was it mine. We turned up separately to the Ministry with no idea what the summons was about, and walked out as husband and wife. Many others were placed in unions not nearly as pleasant as ours, and some indeed have ended in abusive relationships or worse. We should have been treated like the adults that we are. We should have been given choice, given consideration, and most importantly we ourselves should have given consent."

"But there is worse than this. We believe that the entire Law, while proffered by someone outside the realm of the Ministry, was pushed through by someone with a vested interest in breaking the traditions of Pure Blood. And that someone, while inspired by the best possible intentions of being able to marry the person they love, instead created a disaster when no-one else had that choice. This needs to be remedied, and I believe it can only be at the behest of that person."

He paused, and turned to look back at the Minister and at Draco sitting beside him.

Draco rose and walked towards Heathcote, then, to the utter and total credit of the Malfoy name, he said two important words.

"I apologise."

The hubbub in the studio came across the stage like a wave, no mean feat when there was no actual audience – just the technicians putting the interview to air. Rita was madly gesturing, and Hermione realised that the reporter was trying to get the broadcast cut, but there were obvious allies in the Production Control Room, as the cameras kept transmitting. Then Rita signalled for the microphones to be shut off.

And Hermione knew at that moment that their strongest ally was the floor manager who had spoken to them earlier. She tapped her left ear twice, as did everyone else on her side of the room, as Draco continued.

"You are absolutely correct, Heathcote, and I would like to unreservedly apologise to you, to your companions, and to every one of the Wizarding community who was affected by this Law. While I did not originally propose it, I considered it a possible means to an end for myself, without considering the damage it would do to everyone else. I thought only of my own happiness, not realising that it would create misery to so many others. So I would like at this moment to offer my skills and power, and any assistance I might to the cause, and to make a public declaration that I believe the Wizarding Marriage Law to be unlawful, illegal and no longer in force."

Minister Gudgeon started to his own feet. "You mean to tell me, Malfoy, that all your slick arguments, your in-depth papers of the advantages of the Law and your insistence that it be instituted immediately were for your own benefit? You … you … _SLYTHERIN_!"

"But Minister! Think of what good this is doing to the land!" Rita Skeeter now turned in panic to Gudgeon. "We can't repeal it now! What about all the marriages that worked? The Wizards and Witches who would never had found their life's partner if it hadn't been for our efforts? We can't stop it now!"

"I can and I will." The Minister was pointing his finger directly at Rita. "Right. I shall have this ratified by the Wizengamot tomorrow, but as of now, any two people who were brought together by this Law and who no longer wish to be married may have their marriages dissolved, annulled and dispelled upon application to the Ministry. That application may be by Owl, in person, by Muggle Mail, or even email. I will hear no more of this mockery of the Ministry. Malfoy?"

"Yes, Minister?"

"Your father might have been proud of you, but I am not. Present yourself to me on Monday morning at eight sharp. But you might want to marry that wonderful woman first. She came to me last week to ask if things might get hurried along. You don't deserve her, Malfoy, but she seems to think otherwise."

"If you please, Minister, I believe there is someone here who has done more to harm the Wizarding community than anyone else." Hermione was now on her feet, followed by Severus. She held the Arithmancy diagram towards the camera as she spoke, and an enchanted set of arrows now flashed and pointed directly towards the Media Relations Office.

"Go on, Ms Granger. Please. If I know who is responsible, we can trace the source and get rid of the rot." Minister Gudgeon was adamant, although Severus winced at the metaphors.

"Here." Hermione pointed at the paper. "And here."

And she pointed directly towards Rita.

"What?" The reporter glared at Hermione with a hatred that could only come from someone who has been thwarted yet another time by the same clear-thinking intelligent witch. "You're making it up. I would never …"

"You would and you did." Hermione waved her wand, and three more lines on the paper converged on one name. _Skeeter_. "You were contacted by an American Wizard with intentions towards gaining a foothold in the British Wizarding Broadcasting Community. Such a wizard would not be allowed to own any sort of company like that in Britain, so it has to be owned and run by a British Wizard."

She glared at Rita.

"Or Witch."

"You're delusional. There is no such company."

"There is." Severus nodded at Deidre, who pulled out a large tome open at a page full of names.

"_Radio, Internet, Television Association_, registered in the name of _Myxini Pty Ltd_. They may be American, but they are owned and run by _Culicidae Incorporated_, a British company with only one name listed against it." Deidre pulled out the official paperwork. "I believe that _Culicidae_ is the scientific name for the mosquito, often known as a skeeter. And the initials of the broadcaster spell out **R. I. T. A**. That cannot be a co-incidence. Who is he, Rita? This American, who wants to insert himself into the British Wizarding community, and take over its culture?"

"You can't prove anything."

"Yes we can." Deidre pointed her finger at Rita. "There's one thing you forgot about. One fact that was staring us in the face, until you yourself jogged my memory. The Law said that every unmarried witch or wizard of pureblood must marry someone with a mixed heritage. And we all did."

She paused, then walked right up to Rita and jabbed her finger on the presenter's chest.

"Except for you, _MISS_ Skeeter."

"She's right!" Minister Gudgeon gasped. "Everyone except for you. And how did you manage that?"

"She's married to Maxwell Myxini, that's why." Severus spoke quietly, but the entire studio – and the whole audience of Wizarding Britain – could hear every clearly annunciated word. "She didn't want us to know about it, but she's married to the Wizard who wants to turn British Wizardry into a clone of the Fundamentalist-minded Ministry-controlled morally-confined bunch of sycophantic motto-chanting mindless crowds we hear about. It's not the whole of the American Wizarding society, but they're trying to stretch that control further and further each year. And it will. Not. Do."

"Skeeter? Consider yourself under investigation, and you will report to my office tonight. Not Monday. Tonight. In one hour. This show is over." The Minister took off his microphone and stalked off, followed closely by Draco. Severus, Hermione, Heathcote and Deidre removed their own sound equipment, and turned and left the studio without even a backwards look at Rita. When they saw the footage later, they watched as each camera and light turned off and Rita was left on a dark stage, just standing there in silence.

-0-

After quickly collecting their belongings, the four met outside the studio entrance. Hermione felt drained, rather than elated.

"It should have been a glorious victory." Deidre also looked quite dejected. "And yet I feel so empty."

"It's not just you. I'm guessing none of us have eaten, as we were stressed about the possible results. I for one didn't think I'd be leaving in anything but the grip of an enforcer on the way to Azkhaban." Severus shook his head. "There's a lovely Indian place nearby – Deidre and I go there often. Shall we?"

The victory dinner was definitely what they needed. By the end, all four had relaxed enough to start enjoying themselves, and each proposed a toast to the others.

"Heathcote, you were brilliant. I had no idea you had such an astute legal mind. To Heathcote, my terribly clever husband." Hermione stood and lifted her glass of mango lassi to him, and the others did likewise.

"To Deidre, whose investigations solved the mystery!"

"Hermione, the puzzle-solver and the Queen of Arithmancy!"

"Severus, whose use of adjectives is nothing short of amazing!"

The restaurant, whose staff had been watching the entire broadcast, brought them rose gulab jamon in a dish, and let them know that their entire bill had been covered by some of the other patrons that night. It was with a warm fuzzy feeling that the four finally left, staggering not from drink but from tiredness, and only incredible good luck saved them from being splinched on their respective ways home.

-0-

The next morning's breakfast with Heathcote, though, was somewhat awkward. Heathcote came into her bedroom fairly late to let her know he had made the pancakes she particularly liked. He even brought out the special stash of genuine Canadian Maple Syrup, but she had the feeling that it was time for a Serious Discussion. They sat at the table opposite each other, and he took her hand and looked in her eyes.

"Hermione, I have been so very lucky."

"Why do I think I know where this is going?"

"Do you mind?"

"I'm not sure." She squeezed his hand. "But please, I do want to hear what you have to say. We agreed on honesty from the beginning, and this is no time to stop."

"You're right, of course." He squeezed back. "And that's part of why I have to do this. Being married to you has been lovely. We get on well, we've both got enough confidence in ourselves that we can stand on our own two feet and do our own things, yet when we work together, we are amazing. But …"

"But?"

"I love you very, very dearly as the best friend I have ever had. I've had years of not trusting people, thanks to the life of a rock star and the adulation of the fans, so when I knew you respected and trusted me, it was a precious gift. I don't believe I shall ever have a friend I care for as much ever again." He paused. "I love you so much as a friend. But not as a husband should."

"You don't think husbands and wives should be friends?"

"Oh, absolutely." He looked worried, and was searching her face to try and work out what she was feeling, but he had to go on. "But I think that they need something else too. A joining of the heart. Love. Being in love, and loving, and caring, and adoring. We have a lot, but we don't really have what makes a marriage."

To his surprise, she smiled, and pulled his hand over so she could kiss it. "I have been so lucky to be married to you. No-one has ever cared for me the way you do. You've looked after me, emotionally supported me, encouraged me … With you, I've been able to face all of this mess. It has been utterly, totally lovely, and I do care for you very much, but you're right. I don't love you that way either. You're the best friend I've ever had, and you will, I hope, always be my friend. But only a friend. And it would hurt me a great deal if you were to stop liking me even if you went and married someone else."

He sighed, a deep, heartfelt sigh. "Do you know what I appreciate the most?"

"No."

"That you _have_ been completely honest with me, all the way, so I know you're not just saying that to spare my feelings. Hermione, you are wonderful, and any man would be so lucky to be your husband. Promise me something?"

"It depends."

"I think you'll be ok with this." He grinned. "When you get married, invite me and I'll play for the reception, and have one wild dance with you too."

"That, I can do, if you do the same for me. Invite me to your wedding and I'll make a speech that'll have the crowd cheering."

They both got up and hugged each other hard.

"When shall we do it?" He looked down at her, and kissed her forehead.

"By email, in five minutes. I bet Draco's got a form up ready on the website already." Hermione sat back down. "No, ten. I have a delicious breakfast made by a lovely and special person, and I am not going to waste it, nor insult it by being on my computer while I could be appreciating every bite. Ummm … could I ask you a favour in return?"

"Ask away. Today I could promise you anything."

"Then, if I might, once in a while can I come over for breakfast?"

"Breakfast can be anytime, so yes." They laughed, then continued eating for a minute or two. Hermione finished her pancakes and sipped her coffee.

"Tell me, Heathcote, and you know you can tell me honestly. Is there someone else?"

"I don't know." He put a bit more butter on his pancake. "I have my own rules. I was not going to do anything to hurt this marriage while it was still legal."

"But now that it won't be?"

"I'm … not sure. I think … perhaps …"

He paused for a moment, obviously struggling to say anything, and Hermione could not bear to see him trying not to hurt her. It wasn't going to hurt, though, and he had to know it.

"Deidre."

"Yes. I think there's something there, and if we're not going to be married, I now feel free to find out. At least I can try. If it doesn't work …"

"If it didn't work, it wouldn't be because you're married and that would be against the rules. Yeah, you never struck me as the _Pansexual Polyamorous Party Wizard_ type." She cracked up, and Heathcote joined in.

"That's why I never married, with all those years of touring. I couldn't enjoy the fun on the road if I was hurting someone back home. But now I know the value of a supportive, caring spouse. I can only hope I find a loving one as well."

"You will, Heathcote. You will."

-0-

Friday night at the Leaky Cauldron's back room was pretty quiet, and Hermione sat herself down with a large Strawberry Daquiri and a dish of pork scratchings. She was set to move out of Heathcote's place as soon as she found somewhere new to live, but tonight particularly she knew he and Deidre were going on a date. Apparently Severus and Deidre felt the same – friends, but not a lasting relationship – and they'd had the marriage dissolved by the day after the email lines opened. And Deidre had moved back to her place and cancelled the rental notices she'd had up, taking just a couple of days to clear out the dust and bring her furniture back into their places. The four had dinner planned there for Sunday night, and Hermione was looking forward to it.

She'd just started jotting down ideas for a dessert to bring when the seat opposite her was taken by a familiar large dark brooding Wizard, who was brooding more than usual. His drink was opaque, swirly and black and bore a closer relationship to Guinness with glitter than to the Black Russian it was supposed to be. It was also very large and half-empty.

"Hi."

The only response was a deep _G__rump_.

Hermione held off saying anything else. She'd seen this before, after their first case together, the one with the green cauldron and the eviscerated gnome. It usually took two drinks to get him out of it, so she waited.

Finally, there was a noise that wasn't inaudible grizzling.

"I suppose you know where they are?" Severus asked.

"Non-specifically, yes. Somewhere in the Theatre district at the opening of a satire based on the rule of Dolores Umbridge during my fifth year in Hogwarts. As to the actual location – well, apparently no-one wanted to admit to hosting it, so the "theatre" is actually the upstairs rooms in a little terrace in Soho that can only be accessed by saying the right phrase. Are you not all right with this?"

"I … I really don't know." He finished his drink and looked in the bottom of the glass as if expecting another to materialise there. "Want another?"

"Please."

Severus was back in a few minutes, the glasses balanced on a tray along with a bowl of sweet potato chips. "I think we'll need some sustenance, and pork scratchings don't really do it."

They spent another few minutes demolishing the food without words. Finally, Severus leaned back and stretched, a slight smile coming to his face.

"It was easy, being married to Deidre. She's … I believe the American term is low maintenance. She never made a mess, never asked for anything apart from consideration for her privacy and sharing the housework, she had her own life, and she was charming and intelligent over the breakfast table. And although it's nice having the space back, it was also pleasant having someone worry about me when I was out too late, or making a cup of tea when we were both working. So it's not that living together was a problem. But … "

"But it wasn't a capital-R relationship." Hermione took a sip. "Heathcote gave great hugs, but I have to admit I was craving a little more. And yet not with him." Suddenly she felt herself growing red, so took another gulp of her drink.

"I've never been married, although I've certainly had my fair share of physical relationships." Severus seemed to find something on the far wall fascinating, as his eyes were fixed on it while he spoke. "But there's always something missing with those. It's not just the sharing a bed that makes it complete – it's waking in the morning and finding them curled around you. Or coming down to breakfast and finding them sitting there with yours made and waiting. Or the feeling you get when you've found just the right brooch for them, and you can see the love in their eyes."

"Oh." Hermione looked down where the scarf ring held her scarf and stopped it from blowing away. "And being able to hold an in-depth conversation with them and there's something you don't know so they explain it, but not in a way that makes you feel stupid."

"Or laughing together when you install the doorbell upside down, or sharing hair-care tips and products."

"Severus, are you trying to say something?"

He looked back at her, and she was surprised to see a flush rise up in his face. "And if I am?"

"Then I think you need to know that whatever you say, you're someone whose intellect I appreciate, whose opinions I respect, and whose … " Now she blushed. "Whose nose I would like to kiss some day."

"Oh."

Hermione braced herself, and tried to breathe slowly and deeply to fend off the impending panic she could feel. Had she made a total fool of herself? Had she supposed too much …

Severus put down his drink and took her hand. "Hermione, your own ideas and concepts are always amazing. I love the way your mind works. I adore your hair, and that it is so like mine in being difficult and contrary. But most of all … Hermione Granger, I love you for who you are. Your personality, your kindness, your sense of justice. I am made better just by being with you. And believe it or not, I love the way your hair almost has a life of its own. Would you let me be with you and spend the rest of my life helping you find a solution to both our hair?"

At the door of the lounge, Hannah was about to walk in and collect the empty plates and glasses, but the sight of Severus and Hermione kissing led her to close the door quietly and walk away. The plates and bowls could wait.


End file.
